


With the Dead Lies My Sanity

by AliceofClover125



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Drama, Fire Emblem Heroes Book III Spoilers, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, Romance, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceofClover125/pseuds/AliceofClover125
Summary: "Lose my mind?" Líf echoes with empty amusement, the harsh notes of his voice mellowing to a sorrowful song. "How could I not? It was all my fault... The people of Askr, Sharena... and Kiran. My sanity... it died with them."





	With the Dead Lies My Sanity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. Played Book 3, was absolutely destroyed by it, IntSys decided to throw in a movie and now I'm decimated. 
> 
> The first fic I write in a million years and it's an angst fest... enjoy.

Before them lies a near endless expanse of desolate land, robbed of Life's very essence as nothing but the ravage of Death curses the kingdom before them to a ruin so total it seems nothing can ever hope to heal it. There is no balm to soothe these wounds that run deep into the core of the land, no balm with which any can guarantee will breathe new beginnings here. Here, there remains only sorrow; here, there remains only regret; and here remains the consequences of a future they might yet avoid. But while _they_ might be freed if such a fate, the broken figure of Líf stands before them all a ways away is not so lucky, his haunted eyes piercing straight into his younger counterpart as Alfonse helplessly stares right back at him without a word to say, without comfort to give. What can he say to this man that could even hope to help when Líf carries a weight that he himself could never shoulder without falling to nothing?

"To save our world," rings Líf's rough voice, impassioned and unwavering, "I will _decimate_ yours."

Alfonse stands before a mirror of himself, shattered and lost to a dark insanity he might never escape, and never before has he felt a terror so deep until now that it reaches the very marrow of his bones. When he knew he was cursed to die, Alfonse was afraid, yes, but what man or woman wouldn't be afraid when suddenly confronted by their own mortality? His only comfort then was that he would be useful in death; that while Hel might take his life, she could not take his freedom to spite her until the bitter end before she came to reap his soul. There was comfort in that he could do _something,_ at least, no matter how small, to protect not only his kingdom, but those dearest to him as well. There was comfort in knowing that everyone dearest to him might have a chance to fight back even if he was gone; and there was an overwhelming comfort in knowing that his death would mean _they_ could live. But this? To see Líf before him now, red eyes holding such a lifeless, torn, fervent gaze, standing with such fragile confidence as the sight of him, Sharena and Kiran further tears into his weakened soul, inspires such a total and complete terror in him that Alfonse feels as though he cannot breathe, throat constricted and chest set aflame with a dread that consumes him. This man before him can do nothing but wallow, and Alfonse in turn can do nothing but witness him. They remain at a stalemate of nothingness, and it frightens him, what it is he's become, what it is he cannot do.

"No!" Alfonse cries out in a weak, tremulous note. "To think I'd serve Hel... have you lost your mind?"

This man _is_ him, and there is nothing that terrifies Alfonse more than everything this means for him. Líf is the manifestation of every secret fear he has ever had come to life, bundled up into a single sorry existence that cannot escape its own fate, alone to wallow in misery at the consequences that destroy it a little more each minute of every day. It's a sick, twisted wonder, nearly a marvel, really, that Líf still finds any will to move forward with such unwavering determination. More accurately, with such foolhardy madness, and Alfonse cannot bear to look at him a minute more, afraid of this proof of weakness; of this proof of failure.

"Lose my mind?" Líf echoes with empty amusement, the harsh notes of his voice mellowing to a sorrowful song. "How could I not? It was all my fault... The people of Askr, Sharena... and Kiran. My sanity... it died with them."

At the mention of his precious Summoner, Alfonse squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment, heart seizing at the very notion of losing someone so important to him. To lose not only Sharena, but _Kiran_ as well... to suddenly be forced to realize then just how truly human Kiran is rather than the mystery their strange arrival always shrouds them in strikes a chord within him. Never before has Kiran felt so within reach, and it is in the worst way it could have ever been. Until that moment, Alfonse thinks he might have deluded himself into thinking Kiran untouchable, to some extent, being that they did not belong to Askr. They belong to another world and realm all their own, and as such, the dangers and politics of Askr never seemed capable of touching them. But to know then that Kiran not only befalls the same fate as this dead world, but by his _own hand_ at that... it's too much to bear. The reality of it is more than he can handle.

When he opens his eyes again, he sees the way Kiran looks at Líf now that they know just who this is. He sees the very moment their heart shatters for him, for this distraught version of the prince at their side, just as shaken as he is in this overwhelming realization. And to Alfonse's absolute horror, Kiran takes a step forward, out of reach before either he or Sharena can react.

"Líf," Kiran calls, voice so gentle and soft, and Líf flinches at the sound, stung by it likely after years upon years of its absence. "Líf... please, won't you listen to me?"

"Kiran--" Alfonse tries, reaching for them only to see them gracefully move away from his touch, never once faltering in their steady stride towards this mad echo of him. Panic rises to his throat, bubbling into another cry of their name, but Sharena holds him back, skin clammy and grip firm. Her eyes do not leave Líf, just as fearful as he is of this man, and Alfonse knows then how foolish it is to get between Kiran and Líf. To deny a broken man a ghostly glimpse of what once is both cruel and an invitation for retribution. Besides, if there is one thing Alfonse knows of himself, it is that regardless of the world he comes from, but most _especially_ in this one, he is not capable of hurting Kiran. Even if this Kiran is not Líf's, Alfonse is sure there will be little want in him to hurt the person who shares his Summoner's likeness.

He refuses to acknowledge that this surety he feels is nothing more than a parlous hope that at the very least this stays true to character, even when consumed by the madness of loss.

"I don't pretend to know what you've lived through," Kiran says, voice growing softer, sadder, as they come uncomfortably close to Líf in too short a time. "I can't even imagine just how much pain you're in even now. But, Líf... you say you want to save this world. That you want save the Sharena and Kiran you lost all that time ago. But you know that that means, right?"

Líf's form looms over that of Kiran's, and never have they seemed more fragile to Alfonse than in that moment as they stand before his broken image. The way Líf stares down at them, unyielding though conflicted, frightens him with how familiar that expression is. He's seen it before reflected on his own face in times of strife, torn by a decision or emotion he couldn't simply hide away. It's an expression Kiran would often see and come to comfort him in response, and hear out the troubles that ailed him. And now, standing before the very person he's so longed to see, that steely expression wavers for just a moment, a look of helplessness flittering across Líf's features, and for just that second the facade falls away. For just that moment there is no General, no threat mere inches from Kiran's vulnerable form. Now stripped from all his posturing, there remains only a young man powerless before a ghost he thought he would never see again. All there is, is a man yearning for a person he loves, whose double stands before him now, a haunting memory of what used to be, so eerily alike as to be virtually indistinguishable.

But the moment is quick to die.

Kiran, ever the selfless and fearless fool, presses onward, no more than a foot away from Líf as they crane their neck to look up at him, earnest as ever. "You know it means you'll have to kill us, too, right?"

"I know," Líf replies quietly, steady as he holds their gaze. That moment of weakness is gone, it seems; all that is left is a man willing to do what is needed to see his wish through. His hand reaches for the handle of his sword, the tang of metal echoing loudly as the blade arcs straight to Kiran's neck, cool metal resting dangerously right where their heart pulses at their throat. If he's careless, Kiran dies here and now, and it takes every scrap of restraint Alfonse has to keep himself from aggravating Líf into true hostility by forcing his attention away from Kiran. He is helpless to watch, barely allowed the freedom to cling on to Sharena as they watch the dangerous dance before them with only their prayers to keep Kiran safe.

"You're going to kill me then?" Kiran asks, calmer than they really should be. "Me, and _Sharena?_ "

Líf's glare intensifies, as does the careful pressure he applies to the sword he wields. "You aren't _my_ Kiran," he hisses, agony clear in his tone. "And she isn't _my_ Sharena. I lost them a long time ago. All you are is a mimic of them from another world."

"Even if we are, why do you think Hel would keep her promise?" They ask, gently resting their hand over his, the warm shock of their touch enough to have him twitch. "The more that die, the more people she has to rule over, and the stronger she grows. Why would she ever resurrect anyone in a way she can't control? Look around you, Líf!" They implore him, gesturing with their free hand to the dead land around them. "Hel is in control here! She won't ever let it go. Not for anything."

"We forged a contract--" He insists, though that's all he can manage before he's cut off.

" _So?_ " Kiran demands, not so much annoyed as they are desperate to get him to understand, but Alfonse knows himself too well. It is a futile effort at best. "Líf, she is _using_ you, weaponizing this pain and guilt you have to her advantage! She's going to string you along until there's nothing left of you! Don't you see? You'll never be happy like this. You'll never heal. Please, Líf, you have to listen to reason--"

" _Quiet,_ " Líf says in a voice that booms loudly in the fragile silence, cracking down on them like a burst of thunder, and it's enough to silence Kiran's pleas, enough for them to startle and grow quiet. "I lost _everything_ on that day. Everything that I was died with you-- with _my_ Kiran, and _my_ Sharena. My heart, my life, my sanity-- it's _dead._ I don't care what Hel uses me for, Summoner. I don't care if I take down countless other Askr kingdoms so long as mine returns to me. I _will_ have them back, you hear? _I **will** have Kiran back!_"

His voice crescendos until it breaks on Kiran's name, rising in a deranged sort of frenzy that falls to a ringing silence rather than the tears Alfonse knows that ruined soul of his must be shedding right this moment as he shakes, the only steady thing there the hand that holds that blade precariously against their neck. Red eyes gaze upon Kiran with a faraway glaze that sees beyond them. He isn't looking at them. In this one, desperate moment, he is looking at his own beloved Kiran, at a face he yearns to reach for and undoubtedly touch, at a figure he yearns so fervently to hold in his arms and never let go again, but all this lonely man has is a memory to cling to, unable to reach for the person right before him even now, even when knowing _this_ Kiran is just the same as his own. Líf is far too gone in his miserable hell to even realize it anymore.

" _Then do it!_ " Kiran yells right back at him, voice trembling with tears they can only just hold back. "Kill me, Líf. Kill me here and now, and when your Kiran comes back to you, I hope you can face them just like you're facing me now, and tell them what it is you've done. I hope you can tell them without regret all the lives you took to see them again, and I hope you can bear the heartbreak you'll see on their face when they realize what they've helped you become. When they realize they helped do this to you, and that even a Kiran from another world was helpless in saving you. That they _failed_ you, even though all they ever wanted was to help you and see you happy. Even though that's all _I_ have ever wanted for _you,_ Alfonse!"

The silence that follows their outcry is deafening, an oppressive, charged thing that puts every nerve on edge and constricts the lungs until not one breath can be taken. There are no words to break the silence, only Kiran's shaky breaths as they tremble from the weight of their emotions, and Alfonse is much the same, his heart torn at the sight of Kiran so overwrought. He wants to reach for them, wanting to comfort and cradle them close, but he can't. Not with Líf still there.

And Líf? Líf splinters to nothing, unraveling at the seams at the sound of his name falling from such familiar lips, at the sound of such a familiar voice so overcome with pain, that mask of madness falling away to nothing and leaving behind the face of a young man so painfully pitiful and astray. Líf sways on his feet, pushing Kiran away from him hard enough to send them sprawling onto the ground, pressing his shaking hand to his face all the while lowering his blade. With unsteady legs he staggers a little as he turns on his heel, back to them as he hides whatever emotions must be twisting his face. Or perhaps he's hiding his tears away from the one person Alfonse always allowed to see them, from the only person he ever felt safe enough to be vulnerable with when it all became too much.

"Alfon--"

"Enjoy the fact I've shown you mercy today," Líf snarls, shoving his sword back into its sheath with a noisy clang. "You get to live another day, Summoner. You get to live just a few moments longer before I make sure to stain my blade with your blood. The next time we meet, I _will_ kill you. I _will_ have Kiran back. _They **will** come back to me._"

With that he takes his leave, eerily disappearing in the same sudden fashion with which he appears. It's only when he's gone that Kiran crumples, choked sobs tearing at their throat as they cry and cry and cry. And it's only then that Alfonse can finally rush to them, falling to his knees beside them as he gathers them into his arms, holding them tightly enough to likely hurt but Kiran only cries harder, cling onto him just as desperately, their nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to sting but he little cares. Kiran could claw him bloody in their despair and Alfonse would not once complain.

"I'm so sorry," Kiran wails, voice muffled as they bury their face into his neck. "I'm so sorry, Alfonse. I couldn't-- I _tried,_ but I couldn't do anything for him. For _you._ I said such a cruel thing to you... I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"

"Shhh," he soothes, cradling them in his arms. "Kiran, there's nothing to forgive. You did everything you could for him. Líf... Líf _chose_ this fate. There's nothing you could do for him. You are _my_ Summoner, Kiran, not his. We both know it, him and I. No matter how much he loves the you of his world, it will never be the same."

"I couldn't even _help_ him--"

"Because he didn't _want_ help," Alfonse gently interjects, resting his cheek atop their head with a heavy heart. "He's... a shell of what he used to be, Kiran. For him to... for _me_ to go so far that I'd ignore a different you... he's beyond our help. So please... please, don't blame yourself. Okay?"

Kiran hiccups on another cry, sniffling as they try and gather themself. He's gentle as he wipes away their tears, tender as he smiles down at his precious Summoner, and as he watches the way Kiran leans into the palm of his hand, a watery, shaky smile on their lips, he makes a silent oath. He cannot save this Askr, but where Líf has failed, he _will_ succeed. Unlike Líf, he won't let his kingdom fall to ruin, won't allow for Hel to get her way and destroy not only the kingdom and world he so seeks to protect, but the people he loves so dearly as well. Even if it means fighting her with his bare hands he will _not_ let her take all that he loves and leave him a broken man. He will not allow for a world in which neither Sharena nor Kiran live. And he won't allow for a world that will have him turn into Líf and have Kiran weep for him like this, despondent and quick to blame themself for something they could not hope to control. Already Kiran shoulders enough; already they _all_ shoulder too much to see their world turn to ashes like this.

Even if he must fight the gods themselves to turn the tides of this war, he will do so and force Hel to her knees in surrender or have her head for her noncompliance. Alfonse will not falter. This he swears to himself as he seals his own private oath with the kiss he places upon Kiran's brow.

He _will_ see a world of light shine at the end of this arduous battle. Alfonse will accept no other fate, the cogs of Lady Fortuna and the gods be damned. Not now, not ever.


End file.
